


for her

by kimzite



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24403951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimzite/pseuds/kimzite
Summary: A short story I did for English and I guess I liked it enough to post so like, yeehaw.The question we had to use was; Create an imaginative text with a central voice that conveys hope of redemption.Enjoy!
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 1





	for her

The old church hadn’t been used in years by anyone that wasn’t the native wildlife, drug addicts or hookers. The stained glass windows stained with more then the bright colours as if their sins somehow took the shine. The colours reflective on the pools of water that flowed through holes in the roof and danced as more water joined it. As the puddles expanded to merge into one another the dry spots became far and few as the church pews had long since been used as firewood. Spots of ash made the water look deeper in parts like something may be lying there in wait to drag you under. 

I felt compelled at that point to move away from the door but without it open the light would be lessened. Whilst the windows and holes where present I felt like I was losing something if I took the moon’s rays away from my bare skin missing its kind kiss. Yets its rays felt unwelcomed here like someone watching an exchange on the streets not meant to be privy to the inner going ones. So I turned on the stone slab to close the door and therefore my way out. 

To say I’ve felt fear before was true. It becomes constant when you live where I do. Being forced to harm and inflict others with pain and suffering to lesson your own sins. Yet, here I seemed void of all fear and that made me worried. Fear was all I felt for years, is this what it’s like to feel nothing? To feel like someone has reached inside your chest and placed their hands on your heart until it stops quivering like a frightened animal? But against my best wishes, the wind rose to urge me on deeper into the church. Down the chipped stairs till the last one. I was hesitant. Should I remove my shoes before stepping into the dark water? Should I save at least one thing tonight while risking my feet getting cut? This glass of past drinks must be littered on the floor like a bear trap waiting. I toe off my shoes in the end and ball up my socks deciding that maybe if I was redeemed that I may need them. 

If somehow it is possible the water feels cooler then it looks wrapping my feet in a thin layer of ice. Freezing my already cooled blood to the point that I feel nothing, not even the rough stoned floor. As I move down the aisle without a veil of white to trail behind me but instead a ripple of disturbed water, seemingly aggravated by my presence here. I walk letting my hands lightly grace the air where a chair once would have sat looking around. I heard from someone a few towns over that they where white velvet. That the whole church was a white stone and that as the people stopped forgiving and started taking the building turned to a lighter grey and soon the current black. The person, however, reeked of weed and dried blood leaving me to wonder if they didn’t somehow contribute. 

I brush something with my foot. Something not sharp, not smooth or rounded. Not glass, not stone, not bone. But a Cross. While I can’t feel anything else from the numbness that had made itself settle in my bones and risen to my shines. I could feel the burn of the cross. An unholy being like me could not set foot on the holy ground nor touch anything blessed by the gods. It would burn too much to handle leaving me in agony. I ignore the cross leaving it where it lay surrounded in the hands of someone long forgotten. An unholy being here to lay to rest her. 

The church has been hard to find but in all my time here I had never once left someone unfulfilled. She had asked with her dying breath to be brought to the place she was born. That only then would she truly be able to rest. While normally i would let my indifference let me drop her outside the church I felt I owed her this. When someone dies for you there isn’t much more you can do. When someone’s blood flows like the rain through a hole in the ceiling for you, you feel at least responsible. 

The whole time I had let her float behind me. Magic keeping her dress and hair neatened. She almost could look asleep if not for the noticeable gasp in her neck the skin peeled back to reveal the inner workings. The muscles and the bone now almost a similar pale colour as the blood had left her. The thin shield around her was to protect her from the birds we would stumble upon and any beings that may have lurked nearby. 

I feel remorseful for once in my life. She had dreams she did and life, although short as it would have been, that she could have lived. Now she lays dead no longer a part of this world. No longer there to breathe and to dream. Now just something that the insects will call home. 

We’ve neared the steps at this point the alter presented in front. Crumbled with half the side chewed and the teeth marks leaving little question as to what it was. As I push aside the moss and dust covering the large centre stone I let my magic do the heavy lifting. I am faced with the corpse of the guardian. So rotted and decayed that even the gold jewels had begun to crumble. However, I was not here to beg their forgiveness instead of my friend’s. As I bend down letting my knees rest in a mockery of a preyer I pull bones one by one out until this crypt is emptied. 

Placing her body down gently like one would place a fragile china doll I take the jewels around my neck and place them in her stone hands. While there is logical reasoning to this action like that it would ward anyone who felt the need to disturb her rest I was not compelled by those thoughts. Rather a sense of hope. That in protecting her in death I may be able to repent for all my sins. That even killing all the men who harmed her would not have laid her to rest that maybe my protection will.

As I lifted the stone letting it bite into my skin blackened blood flowing around the stone sealing it like one would a letter to a loved one I kneel again. 

Whilst I knew that the gods have forsaken me. I pray that they will protect her and provide her with the guidance she may need. And that if her spirit grows strong enough that they will speak my deepest regret to let her know that I will mourn, that I could never expect her forgiveness in this case and that I will not wait for it. 

I have walked this earth long rough and as I rest here watching as soon the stained glass coats the room in colour as the sun rises and the rain stops I wonder if I will soon join her. And if someone will walk down the aisle to my final place of rest. Leaving their shoes toed off.


End file.
